A Grim Future
by Drimu
Summary: A tale following the life two of young nobles, born and raised in the nation of Lordaeron.
1. Chapter 1: The First Son

7:39 AM.

Across the Kingdom of Lordaeron, not to far from their capital city, was a simple mansion atop a small green hill. It was made out of fine Stone masonry, beautiful flowers growing out all around it with a stone pathway right in the middle leading to the grey iron gate. Marble columns decorated the front porch and so forth.

Just inside the double doors was where the Presoor family made their home. There were four of them, but we'll get to that later. This tale focuses on one on particular.

Upstairs, fifteen steps down the right hallway, on door number seven, laid a sleeping boy. Sleeping in on the morning as was his normal routine. The room was darkened, thanks to the silk covers shielding it from any sunlight that the large square window on the far side of the room would allow in.

The boy slept with the covers over his entire body, the only thing pray telling to the fact there was anyone at all was the unseen force causing the sheets to raise up and down.

"Jaggo!" Cried a muffled voice from the end of hallway, followed by footsteps that echoed off the walls of the unnaturally quiet home. "Jaggo!" The voice called out yet again, finally provoking a soft "Nyaah…" from under the sheets.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Jaggo! Wake up!" Sounded the voice a final time, the knocking becoming increasingly loud with each fist pounding down on it. "I don't wannaaa…" Came another muffled voice from under the sheets.

BANG.

"No…"

BANG.

"Nooo…"

BANG.

"IN A MINUTE!" The boy yelled, nearly launching himself straight off his bed as he busted from under his blankets. Then, once more, all was quiet.

"Ugggh…" The boy groaned, both hands running through his light brown locks before he fell right back down onto the sheets. Within an instant he was up again however, his first target being the window on the far side of the room. With two quick movements, they were pushed wide open, the invading sunlight illuminated the entire room.

The boy himself was now covering his eyes and groaning again, having not yet adjusted to the brightness. He was quite short for someone his age, that being the first noticeable thing about him. His light brown locks being disorganized and being out in every direction. Finally, he lowered his pales hands away from his face, his brilliant sapphire-like eyes seeming to almost sparkle in the direct sunlight. The boy took this moment to examine himself, being clad in nothing else but silk plaid pajamas.

With the shrug, he groggily dragged himself to the other end of the room, throwing his clothing in a pile by his bed where things he was to lazy to take care of usually went. He opened his drawers, being absolutely nothing else but fine silken suits and a few leather hunting outfits. Not that he ever went hunting. He really didn't care much for killing animals in any way really.

Before long he'd adorned himself with his nice fancy clothes, again, not something he cared for. He took two steps to his left, double checked every single shelf that had toys lined up from left to right to make sure not one was out of place, and then opened his door. Immediately he was faced with another almost exact replica of his own door on the other side of the hallway. The only difference being his had a large golden sign that said "JAGGO'S ROOM" nailed to his.

Turning to his left was the same hallway pattern repeated over and over. The pattern being smooth wooden walls and red wooden doors with the exact same golden door knob on every side of the seemingly never ending hall. Down that hall was another hall exactly like it, and to the right, yet another hall. Again, exactly like it. But to the left held FREEDOM from the never ending and boring abyss.

As the boy, whom we shall now refer to as "Jaggo" exited his personal hell, his footstep rung out with a loud echo as his shoe hit the marble flooring. In front of him was an iron railing, marble spiral stairways on his left and right leading down to the floor only about thirteen feet or so down below. In the middle of the floor was a very large and cursive P. Clearly being the main logo for the family, if it wasn't obvious enough already.

Beyond that was the front door to the mansion, which was most of the time strictly off limits for our hero Jaggo.

Each step down the stairway echoed off the walls. The parents must be gone, and the servants hard at work in the more "social" areas of the mansion if you would. Even so, it wasn't normally this quiet here.

Perhaps making the perfect opportunity for…

"AUGH!" Jaggo cried as he was shoved against the wall. "Heyyy buddy…" Came the voice of the taller and much stronger figure that was holding the collar of his shirt.

This man's name was Alistair, older brother to our hero. He bore almost a frightening resemblance to Jaggo, minus the fact that he braided his hair to keep it in check, as well as the fact his own hair seemed to be far brighter shade of brown then the small and fearsome child he was holding. "Fancy seein' you here."

"I live here idiot…" Jaggo retorted with a glare, though he quickly received a punch straight to the gut for his ignorance. "Cute." Alistair said with a sneer. "I do hope you haven't forgotten our morning routine. I'm thinking I might take Robbin out for a nice dinner tonight, but I'm lacking a few of the necessary funds…"

Before the brutish teenager could finish, he was cut off as Jaggo took aim and launched a near perfectly on target spit ball straight into his target's eye. "You little…" Jaggo knew what would happen next, he would be receiving another black eye that he would be forced to lie about in front of his father. But the real question was, was it really worth it?

….

Yes, yes it was.

"ALISTAIR!" called a female voice just moments from when a fist would have impacted Jaggo's face, causing him to be dropped, and fall straight to the floor with a thud. "What in the name of fel are you doing to your brother?" She demanded, hands on her hips as she piercingly glared at the elder one of the two.

"N-Nothin' mi'lady…" Alistair responded, bowing slightly as nobleman like as he could. "I was just having a friendly chat with my little brother was all…"

The woman in front of them, dressed as a maid, continued to glare at the teenager across from her. "Kitchen. Now." She ordered, pointing to the double doors on the far left side of the living room which was just across from where Alistair and our lazy hero was laying.

"Yes Ma'm." Alistair said with another bow for rushing through them."Dooon't mind me…" Jaggo whimpered as he dragged himself to his feet. "Ya know. I'm juuust fine and everything." He said, giving a sarcastic thumbs up to the woman across from them. She only gave him a nod, before hurrying back to join the rest of the servants. Jaggo would have liked more time to properly thank her however. Her name was Rebecca, though most people in the house referred to her as "Nan", as strange as that sounded.

Jaggo could do little else but sign, and dragged himself into the lounge, before falling forward and face planting right onto the cushion of the sofa.

He'd should have figured there wouldn't be anyone up and about today. Tonight was the big night after all. His father was gathering most of the nobles in Lordaeron for a large ball, and so most of the servants were rushing about preparing tables, entertainment, food, and several other things.

Today was just a normal day to Jaggo. But oh, was he so very, very wrong.


	2. Chapter 2: The Second Son

So, when we last left off, our Hero Jaggo was being lazy and slacking off on the sofa. Very boring.

So, instead, let us focus on the hard headed stubborn teenager brute. But we'll just call him Alistair.

8:20 AM

"Son of a bitch…" The teen boy swore under his breath as soon as Nan was out of ear-range. For his bullying of his little brother, Nan had sentenced him to work in the kitchen with the rest of the servants. Namely being the assistant to the chef. As a dish washer. Fun fun fun.

The boy couldn't help but stare up at the large window on the other side of the kitchen behind him. It was a beautiful day today. The sun shining brightly without a cloud in sight, and a nice breeze to balance out the heat and the cold. Oh how he yearned to be out there. To be free. To be rid of all the snobby underlings that catered to his parent's every whim. Unfortunately he'd earned his reputation as the "bad one" out of the two children who lived here.

His father no doubt hated him, as all the other servants. But he had just a fine time taking out all of his rage against his baby brother. That is when he wasn't caught like this time.

"Alistair!" Called the gruff voice of the chef. "Get outside and pick the berries. And don't step in them like last time!"

"Yes my master…" Alistair called back, before dropping whatever he'd been cleaning into the soapy water and sprinting past each and every waiter, cook hand, and chef before he'd made his way into the ballroom. There was a wooden stage set up on the far east side, dozens of tables with white table cloth that sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. Windows adorning the walls left and right along with other decorations such as portraits or flower pots.

Alistair took the quickest exit he found into the courtyard of the manor. Roses, peace bloom, bushes, a few trees, everything grew out here. In the middle was a stone statue of a beautiful woman, the stone showing no justice to the perfect dress she was wearing. Stone walkways showing where it was permitted to walk without disturbing the serenity of the garden.

Of course he'd ignored all of this, what nobody else save for Jaggo knew was the nice little hillside covered up by two bushes.

Our less epic hero wasted no time in climbing through both bushes, before nearly leaping right off the edge and sliding down the unnaturally steep hillside. He rolled, thumped, slid, and just about everything else before finally landing in the clearing.

The teenager groaned out of pain. His clothes now having several grass stains on them from his extremely adventurous screw up. "Totally landed it." He exclaimed as he dragged himself to his feet. "You ALL saw that right? Right?" He yelled to the trees, asserting his dominance and overall awesomeness to the plants.

"Yeah… You saw it…" He grumbled with a large grin as he navigated his way through the small forest.

Eventually he'd managed to fall right out of yet another set of bushes, right onto the stone paved ground of the busy streets of Lordaeron. And right into the path of a carriage, which came frighteningly close to smashing his skull across the street.

"Alright. Phase one, epic escape. Complete." Alistair mumbled to himself as he began walking in some random direction. "Phase two… Do something cool." Our second hero stopped dead in his tracks, pondering what to do next. It had to be something cool. Something awesome. Something completely amazingly epic.

"Oh I know!" He exclaimed suddenly, before spinning on his heel and running straight down the street, pushing his way through all of the overdressed nobles as he did so. To the capital city he went. Why? He'd probably figure it once he got there.

8:40 AM

Jaggo was still being lazy on the sofa.

9:15 AM

Our less tough hero Alistair had finally arrived at the capital city. It was the busiest here, merchants yelling about their "fine" wares. "Fine wares my ass." Alistair mumbled beneath his breath. Of course he didn't believe much of it, as he was in the poorer quarter of the city. Most of the things merchants sold here were scams or con artists. He'd learned better after that time he'd bought a teddy bear and it exploded in his sleep. Not that he needed a teddy bear, being the total manly man he was.

After walking for what seemed like an eternity (I.E. Five minutes) he'd arrived at his destination. The training grounds just outside the Lordaeron barracks. There weren't many soldiers out today thankfully. His mentors were no doubt out catering to every whim of paranoid nobles or royalty. Poor bastards.

Our brutish hero quickly took up a wooden great sword and approached the nearest training dummy. "So… we meet again." He said to the inanimate dummy, before dropping into a combat stance. Which wasn't actually a combat stance, it just made him look cool. "You think you bad? You think you bad?" He taunted, swinging for the dummy's wooden head, causing it to spin around, one of the sticks that was supposed to be an arm managing to strike our hero straight across the face.

Alistair collapsed onto the ground before the triumphant dummy, blood beginning to leak from his nostril. "AHHHH FOUL!" He called out, quickly rushing to his feet. "UNFAIR. COMPELTELY UNFAIR. YOU ALL SAW IT!" He yelled, pointing to the imaginary crowd watching him. "Stupid… I'll show you, ya son of a bitch!" Was the last thing he'd yell before lunging at his inanimate nemesis.

11:30 AM

Jaggo was STILL spending his entire day laying around on a sofa. Not like he had much else to do, considering he'd pretty much been entirely barred from the outside world. Save for the garden. But there was nothing interesting out there. He'd probably end up sneaking out soon enough though, that's what he normally did when no one was around or everything was extremely boring such as it was right now.

He knew exactly where he could go to. Unlike Alistair, his was far more hidden. Well, sort of. In truth both boys had their own little escape routes that they took normally. But now was not the time for that. He'd probably wait until his brother got home, light knew if he was caught outside with him out there…

For now he'd just watch the servants fiddle about busily. Maids running left and right to clean every possible inch of the room, butlers running in and out of the house for ingredients, the sounds of the chefs yelling at their apprentices. Yep. Was going to be a damn long day.

Mother and Father would be home soon.


	3. Chapter 3: Things Heat Up Almost

Around 2:30 PM.

Alistair had been at that training range for light knows how long. Very few soldiers came and went, none of them ever stayed for longer then five minutes. So thankfully he'd had the entire place to himself. The most ideal thing here though was the fact he could curse and scream throughout the entire thing and never get scolded once.

Be barely even noticed the time either, nor the fact that by the time he got home he'd likely be smacked by every servant in the house. Father was going to be home soon, and he would not be happy. Not happy at all.

Of course it was his fault. Not that'd he ever admit that though.

3:30 PM.

There was clanking, footsteps, the sound of curtains being torn down then hung up again. The entire house was in a frenzy of decoration. Everything needed to be perfect. Absolutely EVERYTHING. Not one small thing could be out of place. Tonight was going to be big. Tonight was going to be huge. Tonight was going to be HUGE. Okay maybe not that big but you get the point.

And what was Jaggo doing? You guessed it. Still being the lazy slouch he was. Not for long though.

There was a loud and echoing creaking sound coming from behind him as the front door opened. Our hero excitedly leaping off the sofa in anticipation it would be one of his parents. Five seconds later, his hopes and dreams were agonizingly crushed. It was his bitter old Uncle Whatshisface. He always forgot his name. Not that it was important since he barely even saw him each year. Most of the time it was just an envelope with a silver coin in it. Such a cheap bastard.

However unlike every other time he'd come here, this time he actually smiled at the boy as soon as he poked his face through the crack in the door which was just big enough for him to slip through. He was so creepy. Especially when he was being nice. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Disaster would strike at any moment. Jaggo knew it. He just knew it. Or of course there was the possibility that he'd just gone completely insane.

But this was highly, highly, highly, highly, highly unlikely. Actually not it wasn't. But he could think it was all he'd wanted.

Wait, what was happening again?

"Jaggo dear boy…" The dry and rather unsettling voice broke straight thorough into the child's mind like a pair of claws screeching themselves down a chalkboard. Jaggo was merely surprised he even remembered his name. "I see uh… Yes… The… House is in order." His uncle hurriedly said, trying to start a conversation with the boy who was merely staring blankly at him from across the room.

"… Is your father home?" He'd finally asked with a slight shrug, his usual annoyed attitude resurfacing all the more. Our valiantly lazy hero could only wonder why the fel he was trying to talk to him.

"Three hours." Was all Jaggo said before rolling back over on his couch with a grunt. His uncle decided not to waste anymore time, and as such scurried off as fast as a grumpy old geezer could into the kitchen area. Where he could soon be screaming at the staff like he was their leader.

6:00 PM

The tables were set, the lighting was perfect, the decorations were thrown about in wondrous fashion. Everything was nearing perfection.

Jaggo was even slightly nicely dressed. I.E his usual formal attire. Alistair had recently arrived after a day packed with adventure and fun things. I.E Hitting a target and losing somehow.

Guests were beginning to pour in from the streets, lovely little lanterns lighting up the stoned pathway from the main gate to the doorway. The garden seemed absolutely beautiful, roses still blooming with a mix of blue and red. The sun setting alit the sky with a pinkish hue and glint, the moon slowly showing itself in the pure blue sky.

Everything was done. Now it was merely the task of executing it all correctly. Something that everyone expected to be done perfectly.

For better or for worse…


End file.
